They Say My Name Is
by BaileyGibbs
Summary: I am not Death. I'm not a ghost or apparition or spirit. I'm not a murderer or a villain, nor am I a hero. No. I am not Death. I'm just his page boy. Don't shoot the Messenger. It's not like you'll have time to before you die, anyway. (A song fic inspired by The Messenger's song, "They Say My Name Is…" and my first story. Rated T for slightly dark themes and violence.)


They Say My Name Is . . . (Song fic inspired by The Messenger's song, "They Say My Name Is . . .")

Prologue:

I pushed out of the Plexiglas door of my office. The familiar sound of the bell above the door ringing, signaling my departure, barely registered in my mind. I hear it so often as my patients come in and out all day.

I reminded my assistant and receptionist, Julia, to lock up before I let the door close behind me and she responded with a quick, "Yes, sir." and continued to rush through her paperwork. I could tell she was eager to go someplace tonight. It was the end of the week, after all.

As I dug my keys out of my pocket, I absently wondered what I would grab for dinner on the way home. I would probably just stop by some fast food place. I sighed. I missed my wife's cooking, but she was away on a business trip and wouldn't return until the weekend. I looked at my watch. Another late night. Not a lot of places would be open at this hour. Maybe I could just throw something together when I got home.

As I walked towards my car, I noticed a young man leaning against the front bumper of my Ford. He had black, slightly long, shaggy hair. He was dressed in all black, as well. The only hint of color on him was the bright blue hue of his eyes and his slightly tan skin. I recognized him as one of my patients that had come in for a check up earlier that day. I had thought he was a fairly strange boy. He didn't have any particular problems when he came in. He had just said he wanted a basic check up. I supposed this in itself wasn't very strange, but everything else about him was. He hadn't put down any family medical history on his paperwork. When I asked him about this, he said he had never had any family or if he did, they were gone now. Not only that, but his health was perfect . . . literally. There was nothing even slightly imbalanced or unhealthy about him and there never had been in all of his 19 years. Never any major illness or disease, no conditions, no removed tonsils, not even a broken bone, not even a sprain. Nothing. I questioned him thoroughly about this because of my immense fascination with his case. I had never heard of anything like it.

I snapped back to the present and looked at him as his odd eyes moved up from the ground to meet mine. "Doctor Rice." he nodded a greeting.

"Hello, Mr. Morris." I greeted back, recalling his name. How could I forget the name of the medical anomaly that had walked into my office just this afternoon? "Is there something I can help you with? Did you forget something at the office?"

"No. I came here to speak with you."

"Well is there anything I can help you with?" If it were any other patient, I would have told them to come back in the morning, but I was interested to speak more with this one particular patient.

"Actually," he began as he leaned up off of the vehicle and took a few steps forward towards me, "when I say I want to speak, it's really more that there's something I have to tell you."

I was starting to get a bad feeling. I didn't really know this person and here he was waiting for me in an abandoned parking lot at night just to "tell me something." It was unsettling to say the least . . .

No. I was just being paranoid. This boy was not going to harm me. He had no reason to wish me harm, nor I him. There was no need to get irrational.

"And what must you tell me, Mr. Morris?" I asked, my nerves calmed.

He straightened his posture and looked me right in the eyes. It seemed very business-like and almost cold. "I thought you might like to know, or rather, that you deserve to know that you are about to die."

My blood froze in my veins and my mouth went completely dry all of a sudden. I was wrong. He was going to hurt me. Not just hurt me, kill me. Why?! Why was he going to kill me? Why did he tell me that he was going to kill me? Why aren't I running?! I snapped out of my frozen state and slowly began backing away towards the office. Maybe I could tell Julia to call for help. That is, if she hasn't already left yet. I kept backing up inch by inch, never taking my eyes away from the person that had just threatened to kill me.

"You won't go in to the office," he stated blankly, his professional demeanor now seeming unbelievably frightening. Was that a threat as well? Was he saying if I went in, he would chase me? So far he hasn't moved at all. I was so confused and so scared at this point that pleading for my life didn't seem like a terrible idea.

"Please, don't kill me, okay? I'll do whatever, just don't kill me." I spoke in a weak shaky voice that sounded incredibly loud to me in the silent, dark, solitary space just outside of my workplace.

"I'm not going to kill you," he seemed almost frustrated as he let go of his sharp posture and sighed, hanging his head and putting his hands in his pockets. He looked back up to my terrified face. "But you are going to die. There's nothing that can change that. You need to understand that."

I was so confused and scared. This person wasn't making any sense. Nothing about him made any sense. Not a single thing. I didn't trust him when he said he wasn't going to kill me. Why would he be saying things like this unless he was going to kill me? I had to get out of here.

Panting from fear and never daring to take my eyes away from my potential killer, I steeled myself to make a break for my car that was sitting a few feet behind him. I took in a deep breath and held it in. Then, I burst forth like a bolt of lightening, making a break straight for the driver's seat of my car. I sprinted furiously, never daring to look back to see if I was being chased. I whipped the car door open and threw myself inside, closing it quickly and almost slamming my feet in the door. I hit the lock button on the car door and fumbled with my key to put it in the ignition. My hands wouldn't stop shaking and my heart was pounding so loudly in my ears it almost hurt.

I chanced a look up towards the person I was trying to run from and I saw only blank, cold eyes that seemed to glow cyan in the dark, staring at me. He still hadn't made a single move towards me or away from me. He wasn't chasing me like a psychopath and he wasn't running away out fear that I would run over him, or call the cops or anything. He just stood there, watching, almost as if he was waiting for something. I had to get out of here, now!

My key finally found its way into the ignition and I jerked it forward, making the car roar to life. I wasted absolutely no time in shifting the gear and peeling out of the parking space as fast as humanly possible.

As I raced away from the dark-clothed figure that had threatened to take my life, I fought the urge to look up into my rear view mirror to take one last glance at him to see if he was following me. What if he was gone now? What if he was still there? Should I call the police? What about Julia? Oh God, what if he was in his car, right behind me, following closely? I couldn't resist anymore. I had to know. I quickly looked into the reflection my rear view mirror and it showed him, still standing in the exact same place he had been this whole time. Somehow, this terrified me even more than if he were following me. Why wouldn't he move? Run? Follow? Do something?! He simply stood with a dead, unfeeling countenance hanging on his face as his shadowy silhouette got smaller and smaller as I drove farther away.

I looked back to the road in barely enough time to glimpse the telephone pole smashing straight into the front of my car. And I just barely registered, as my unharnessed body flew the windshield, that everything about your life flashing before your eyes before death is a lie.


End file.
